Rose Dawson: Reborn for the Better
by Bohemian Anne
Summary: After the sinking of the Titanic, Rose begins life anew with the help of a fellow survivor.
1. Chapter One

Chapter One

"Can I take your name please, love?"

Rose looked away from the Statue of Liberty to answer. "Dawson...Rose Dawson." She was a changed woman.

"Thank you."

How could Rose go on without Jack? It seemed impossible. She had nowhere to go, no money, nothing. She put her hands in her pockets, and she felt something cold. She lifted it out and was shocked. It was the Heart of the Ocean! Then, she remembered Cal putting his coat on her. Now she had something to remind her of Jack...Jack. Oh, how she missed him. How would she live without the love of her life?

Then, she saw a blonde-haired man in the crowd. She ran over to him and yelled, "Jack!"

He turned around and...


	2. Chapter Two

Chapter Two

"Yes, Miss?"

Rose paused, and then replied, "Oh...I'm sorry. Thought you were someone else."

He nodded and turned away. She missed him so much.

Rose was walking and didn't even realize she ran into someone.

"Oh, I'm sorry," the woman said.

"It's all right. I'm sorry, too."

The woman stared at her. "What's your name?"

Rose paused, then said, "Rose Dawson."

The woman smiled and shook her hand. "Hello, Rose. My name is Hope. Nice to meet you."

Rose nodded, not really paying attention to the conversation. She was too much focused on Jack.

"I can't believe what happened. My husband and my little boy died on that ship."

Rose looked over to the woman. She looked in her early twenties, not much older than herself. "I'm terribly sorry," Rose said.

Hope nodded, and said, "Did you lose any loved ones?"

Rose though about Jack...those eyes...oh, how she wish she could see them now. "Yes. I lost the love of my life."

The woman gave her a pitying smile, and then said, "Where are you headed?"

Rose looked at her, and replied, "Nowhere. I have nowhere to go, no money, nothing."

Hope looked at her. "I'd love it if you came with me to live in an apartment in New York. To tell you the truth, I'm very scared of living alone."

Rose smiled for the first time since Jack's death. "All right."


	3. Chapter Three

Chapter Three

It had been a month since the unforgettable nightmare, and Hope and Rose were now staying in a small apartment in New York. The apartment had two bedrooms, a living room, a small kitchen, and a small bathroom. Hope and Rose fixed it up really nice.

"Are you ready, Rose?" Hope asked.

"Yep. Let's go," Rose said, and they left their apartment on a job search.

Rose was thinking about Jack all of the time. She didn't know how she was even able to get up in the morning, she was so sad. Oh, how she missed him.

"Oh, my gosh, Rose...are you feeling all right?" Hope asked.

"Yes, but I...I..."

But Rose couldn't finish. She had fainted.

*****

Rose woke up in the doctor's office.

"Hello, Miss...Dawson. Is that right?"

Rose nodded at the friendly doctor. He was a man who looked to be in his early twenties.

"I'd like to examine you, if that's all right. There has to be some reason why you fainted. Your friend said you have been throwing up a lot lately...is this true?"

Rose nodded.

After the examination was over, the doctor smiled and said, "Why, Miss Dawson...you're pregnant."

Rose put her hand over her mouth before saying, "Really? Oh, my gosh! I'm so happy!"

The doctor smiled at this, and Rose ran out of the office to tell her friend.


	4. Chapter Four

Chapter Four

"Hope! Hope! I'm pregnant!" Rose yelled, running over to hug her friend.

"Oh, Rose, that's fantastic!" she said. "Jack's?" Hope asked.

Rose nodded her head. "Yes! It's Jack's!" she said with excitement.

*****

That night, Rose had a dream. She was in her bedroom, and Jack walked in.

"Jack? Is that you?" Rose asked.

"Yes, my precious Rose. It is me. Jack," he said.

"Oh, Jack, I've missed you so much! I love you," Rose said.

"I love you, too, Rose. I'm so excited that you're pregnant with our child. I have something for you."

Rose smiled. "What is it, Jack?"

Jack lifted out a necklace with a locket. He opened it, and there was a picture of him inside of it. "I want you to show this to our child. Tell her about her father. Tell her I love her," Jack said.

"Her?" she asked.

"Yes. It will be a girl," Jack said, as he put it around Rose's neck.

"Thank you, Jack," Rose said.

"I must go now...Rose, I will always be watching over you and Josephine," he said.

"Josephine?" Rose asked.

"Yes. Name her Josephine. I love you, Rose," Jack said. "I'll see you in heaven someday, my love," he said, and he disappeared after kissing her.

Rose woke up in her bed. "What a wonderful dream," Rose said.

As she stood up, she stared into the mirror. She noticed the necklace Jack gave her in her dream was on. She opened it and saw his picture.

"Oh, my God....I love you, Jack," she said, and kissed the locket.


	5. Chapter Five

Chapter Five

May 16, 1912

"Good morning, Rose." Hope looked up from her cup of coffee. Rose was hurrying around the kitchen, almost dancing as she got herself some coffee and toast.

"Good morning!" Rose gave Hope a bright smile before putting a couple of slices of bread in the oven to toast.

"You're certainly happy this morning."

"I have reason to be. Isn't everything wonderful? The sun is shining, the sky is blue, and—" Rose pulled back the kitchen curtains, "—the flowers are blooming. What's not to be happy about?"

"How do you feel this morning?"

"Never better." Rose smiled happily, dropping the curtains and looking into the oven to check her toast.

"No morning sickness? No faintness?"

"Not this morning." Rose pulled her toast from the oven, buttered it, and sat down at the table across from Hope. "I'm going to look for a job again this morning."

"So am I. Good luck."

"Thanks." Rose pushed a stray lock of hair from her eyes, biting into her toast.

"Why, where did you get that?"

Rose followed Hope's eyes to the locket hanging from the chain around her neck. "Jack gave it to me."

"Jack? But you said he was dead."

"He is." Rose's expression grew somber. "I don't know how to explain it—but he came to me last night, and gave me this locket. It has his picture in it." She opened it, showing Hope the small picture inside. "He told me to show it to our daughter, Josephine."

"So the baby's a girl, then?"

Rose nodded. "If Jack can come to me in a dream, and give me this locket, then I'm willing to believe that he knows whether our baby will be a boy or a girl. After all, where he's at now, he can get any information he wants."

Hope smiled as Rose closed the locket, clutching it tightly for a moment before going on with her breakfast.


	6. Chapter Six

Chapter Six

June 15, 1912

Rose walked slowly along the path in Central Park. It was a warm, sunny day, but not as hot as it would be later in the season. She sighed to herself, picking a flower and smelling it as she walked along.

It had been two months since the Titanic sank—two long, eventful months. She had started a new life of her own, working for herself and doing what she wanted to do. She had found employment at the beginning of June, as a sales clerk in an antiques shop. She always feared that she would meet someone from her old life, but thus far, no one of her old class had entered the shop. It was mostly patronized by members of the middle class, who wanted the appearance of luxury but didn't have the money to buy what the rich could afford. She was safe.

Rose checked the time on the watch pinned to her bodice, then walked on. Her place of employment wasn't far from Central Park, so she had taken to going there during her lunch break. She would buy a sandwich and soda from a vendor and eat while she walked. Walking, Hope had told her, was good for her coming baby.

Rose looked up as a tow-headed child ran past her, reminding her of Jack and the baby they had made together. She missed Jack terribly, never going a day without thinking of him, but she was glad for the child he had left her with. She worried occasionally about what would happen when her pregnancy began to show, but pushed the thoughts to the back of her mind, deciding that she would worry about it when the time came. She had already come up with an excuse for being unmarried and pregnant, telling her employer that she was recently widowed, but she hadn't said anything about the baby. Only she and Hope, and the doctor, knew for now.

So deep in thought was she that she didn't notice the man coming down the path, also engrossed in thought, until they collided. Rose stumbled back, almost losing her balance, but the man reached out and steadied her.

"I'm sorry. I should have been watching where I was going," he told her, taking his hand away.

"It's all right. I wasn't watching, either." She looked at him more closely then, blushing with embarrassment when she realized that it was the same man she had mistaken for Jack when the Carpathia docked.

He recognized her, too. "You're the young lady who was looking for someone named Jack," he commented. "Did you ever find him?"

"No, I..." Rose stammered, unsure of what to say. "Ah...no, I didn't."

"I'm sorry. Was he on the Titanic?"

Rose stared at him, wondering how he had guessed. "Yes. Yes he was," she said sadly. "How did you know?"

"You were looking for him at Pier 54, where the Titanic survivors got off the Carpathia."

"I...yes, that's right. Why were you there?" She blushed at the rude sound of her words.

"I'm a reporter with the New York Times. I was sent to cover the story. My name's Luke Calvert, by the way." He held out a hand.

Rose shook his hand. "I'm Rose Dawson. The man I was looking for was...was my husband. He...wasn't one of the survivors."

"I'm sorry to hear that. It must have been hard to lose him."

"I...yes...yes, it was." Rose was having a hard time speaking of Jack.

Luke changed the subject slightly. "What are you doing now?"

Rose took a deep breath. "I...well...I moved in with a friend, who lost her husband and son on the Titanic. I'm working at an antiques shop near here." Why was she telling him all this? The story of the Titanic was still big news. He might just mention her in the newspaper—and someone might make the connection between Rose Dawson and Rose DeWitt Bukater.

"I won't put you in the newspaper," he assured her, seeing her nervous look. "Not unless you want me to." He looked at her assessingly. "Might I interview you?"

Rose immediately thought of the consequences of being discovered, and shook her head. "No...no, I can't. I still...haven't gotten over it yet. It would be...too painful."

He nodded. "I understand. But if you ever change your mind, you can find me at the New York Times office. I also come here almost every day."

_Small chance of my ever changing my mind, Rose thought, but she nodded politely. "Perhaps." She glanced at her watch, realizing that it was time to go back to work. "I need to be getting back to work."_

He nodded. "Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Dawson."

"You, too, Mr. Calvert." She shook his hand again, then turned and walked away, headed back to work.

Luke stared after her, intrigued. He didn't know her, but he sensed that there was more to her story than she had told him. She had looked like a Titanic survivor herself, the night the Carpathia had docked—soaking wet and shivering with cold. She could have just been out in the rain for a long time, but he doubted it. She looked as though she had been wet for days and had never really had a chance to dry out.

He shrugged to himself. He wouldn't print anything about her without her permission, and certainly not without getting the facts first. His honesty and fairness had cost him in his career, but they had also given him a good reputation, which served him well in getting sensitive stories.

One thing he was sure of—he and Rose Dawson would meet again.


	7. Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven

July 15, 1912

Luke was right. He and Rose did meet again—day after day, in fact. They both enjoyed spending lunchtime walking in the park, and, although Rose would never admit it, even to herself, she soon began seeking him out.

To Rose, it almost seemed as if she were betraying Jack. He had been dead less than three months, and she was carrying his child—and yet she sought out another man. Although it was only friendship on the part of both, it still seemed odd to her to want to talk to another man, to walk with him each day. Rose rarely mentioned her past, but she sensed that Luke, with his keen reporter's instinct, knew that she was hiding something.

Hope was pleased that Rose and Luke had found each other. At first, Rose had hoped that Luke and Hope would take an interest in each other, thus relieving her of her guilt, but Hope made a point of disappearing whenever Luke was around, as though she were deliberately pushing Rose toward him.

In the beginning, Rose was angry, and a little puzzled, by Hope's behavior. She had thought that Hope had understood how much Rose had loved Jack, and yet, she seemed to be pushing Rose toward another man. It seemed, too, that Luke and Hope would have been a much better match—they were closer in age, and Hope was a widow who knew how to take care of a home. Rose had passed herself off as a widow, but she was still very young and inexperienced.

Nevertheless, as the weeks passed, Rose grew to cherish Luke's friendship. It couldn't be anything more—not yet—but Rose knew that she needed a friend. Hope, for all that she helped Rose, kept a certain distance, one that Rose could never understand. Luke, in contrast, was open and warm, always listening to whatever she had to say.

Rose had feared that Luke would write about her, but as the weeks passed and no mention of her appeared in the newspaper, she relaxed. He was a man of his word.

*****

Toward the middle of July, Rose began to wonder if it might be safe for her to tell Luke her story. He had never pressed her for details, outside of that first request for an interview, but she felt that she could trust him. Her secret, the story that she had kept locked inside herself since the sinking, burned at her, demanding to be let out.

She had told some things to Hope, but never the whole story. Why she wanted to share her story with Luke, a man who could easily print everything he knew about her in the newspaper, she didn't know, but her instincts told her that she could trust him. He wouldn't betray her trust, even for such a big story—and the story of the missing Rose DeWitt Bukater was a big story, indeed.

Finally, Rose accepted an invitation from Luke to go with him on a short boat ride near the city, one afternoon after work. She was fearful of getting on a boat again, but it was only a short ride on a boat filled with tourists, never going out of sight of land. If the boat did sink, she would be close enough to swim to shore, and the summer-warmed waters were nothing like the bitter chill of the North Atlantic in April.

Rose told herself over and over again to be calm, but she still trembled when she approached the boat. Luke stood beside her, surveying everything around him, and the tourists on the boat laughed and shouted with excitement, but Rose once again felt the chill of that dark night when the Titanic sank. She froze, not wanting to go another step.

"Rose? Rose?"

She glanced up as Luke put his hand on her arm, encouraging her to come aboard. This was a tour he had taken many times, and when Rose had admitted that she had never seen New York from this angle, he had pestered her to come on the boat tour until she agreed. Now, however, she regretted agreeing to the outing. The boat rocked slightly on the water, and the happy shouts of the tourists seemed to change to terrified screams.

Fighting down her terror, Rose yanked her arm away from Luke and turned, racing back down the boarding ramp. People gaped at her as she pushed past them, her hat flying off, but she paid them no heed. Only when she was safely back on firm ground did she slow, dropping in a trembling heap on a bench.

Luke slowly followed her, carrying her lost hat. When he reached her, Rose barely glanced at him. Her eyes were fixed on the tour boat moving away from the dock.

"All those people..." she whispered, covering her mouth with her shaking hands. "None of them realize...it's so dangerous...they could all die..."

"You were on the Titanic, weren't you?" Luke asked, sitting down beside her.

"I...y-yes, I was," Rose stammered, surprised. Luke had never asked her directly about the Titanic before.

He handed her the discarded hat. Absently, Rose put it on backwards, paying no attention to what she was doing.

"You survived...but your husband didn't?" Luke pressed, looking intently at her.

"Yes...no...I..." And suddenly, like water bursting through a dam, the whole story came pouring out.

"It was a beautiful day when we boarded the Titanic...such a magnificent ship...but to me it felt like a slave ship, taking me back to America in chains. I was engaged to a man I couldn't stand—Caledon Hockley. You've probably heard of him." At Luke's nod of assent, she went on. "Three nights out, I just couldn't take it anymore. It was my whole world, and all the people in it—so shallow, so mindless. I felt like I was standing there screaming—and no one even looked up. I ran, and ran...but even the Titanic wasn't big enough. I reached the stern, and the next thing I knew, I was over the rail, trying to convince myself to let go. At that moment, Jack showed up and asked me not to jump. I argued with him, but finally changed my mind. I almost fell, but he managed to pull me back onto the ship. Some crew members had heard my screams, though, and Jack was arrested—we had landed in a rather compromising position. Cal came from the smoking room, furious that anyone would dare put their hands on his property—that was how he thought of me, a piece of property.

"I made up a story about it being a stupid accident—that I was trying to see the propellers. Cal was so gullible—he fell for it immediately. But then, he never did think I had a mind of my own. He tried to reward Jack with twenty dollars, but when I asked if that was the going rate for saving the woman he loved, he invited Jack to dinner the next night. I'm sure he did it just to show Jack how out-of-place he would be in our world, but Jack accepted, and the next night, came to dinner. One of the other first class passengers, Molly Brown, had lent him a tuxedo, so he looked like any other man there. And at dinner, in spite of snide remarks from Mother and Cal, he prevailed. Everyone thought he was very clever—for a third class passenger.

"After dinner, he slipped me a note. When no one was paying attention, I went to the clock on the grand staircase to meet him. He asked if I wanted to go to a real party—and then took me down to steerage, where there was loud music, and dancing, and people really having a good time. I'd never had so much fun in my life. But Cal's manservant, Spicer Lovejoy, had been sent to look for me, and he reported my behavior to Cal, who blew up at me at breakfast the next morning. Later, as we were getting ready for the church service, Mother told me to stay away from Jack, because the marriage to Cal was too important to ruin. We were out of money, you see, and Mother couldn't stand the thought of leaving high society behind. I didn't really care anymore, but I agreed anyway.

"That afternoon, Jack somehow got up to first class, and he pulled me into the gym and tried to talk to me. I wanted to listen, I really did, but I was still thinking about what Mother had said that morning. Later, though, as I was having tea with Mother and her friends, I realized what my life would be like if I stayed with Cal, and I made the decision that changed my life. I went and found Jack at the bow, and he opened my eyes to a whole new world." She closed her eyes, remembering. "I asked him to draw me—he was a fine artist, you see. He had been to Paris, and had learned to draw so well. I asked him to draw me like one of his French girls—wearing only a necklace that Cal had given me. And he did."

Luke looked a little shocked at the revelation, but didn't interrupt.

"After the drawing was finished, Lovejoy came looking for me. Jack and I left my suite, and ran all through the ship, trying to get away from him. We finally wound up in a crew area, where the coal was put into the furnaces to fuel the ship. We ran through there, and ended up in a cargo hold." She paused, wondering if she should reveal what had happened next, then decided to tell him, since it explained her current condition.

"There was a car there—a shiny new Renault. We ended up in the back seat—and we made love." Rose paused, remembering the experience. She glanced at Luke, who was looking at her thoughtfully.

"After that, we got out of the car before anyone could find us, and went up on deck. I told Jack that when the ship docked, I was getting off with him. A moment later, we struck the iceberg—and the whole world changed. Jack and I went back to first class, to tell Mother and Cal what had happened. Cal was waiting for us—and he had Lovejoy slip the necklace into Jack's pocket, then accused him of stealing it. Jack was arrested, and—God forgive me—I actually believed at first that he really had stolen the necklace. A steward made us come up on deck, where I learned that the ship really was sinking. As Mother and I waited to board a lifeboat, Cal made a snide remark about how he should have kept the drawing—it would be worth a lot more by morning. And in that moment, I knew that Jack hadn't stolen the necklace—that he would drown in the ship if he wasn't freed, for a crime he didn't commit.

"I called Cal an unimaginable bastard, and went to find Jack. He was near the bottom of the ship—water was already filling the room he was in. I looked, but there was no extra key to his handcuffs, and Lovejoy had taken the original key. I went to find help, and finally came back with an ax. It was pure luck that I managed to chop through Jack's handcuffs—I had never used an ax before. But he was free, and we found our way up to where the steerage passengers were being held back. There was no getting through, so we found another gate, and Jack and his friends broke it down. When we got up on deck, Jack insisted that I get in a lifeboat. I refused, but then Cal appeared and put his coat on me. He told me that he had an arrangement with an officer on the other side of the ship, so that he and Jack could both get off safely. I got into the boat, but something about Cal's expression told me that he was lying, so I jumped out halfway down and went to find Jack.

"Cal was furious. He took Lovejoy's gun, and even as Jack and I embraced, he started shooting at us. We ran, and luckily Cal was a poor marksman—he never came close to hitting either of us. But we kept running, and wound up trapped below deck again. We found a little boy who was standing alone and helpless, and tried to rescue him, but his father didn't understand, and grabbed the boy and ran the wrong way. They were both drowned when the water burst through the doorways down the hall.

"Jack and I ran, almost being swept away, but we made it to a staircase. We ran to the top, but the gate was locked. The water was rising around us when a steward came by. We begged him to unlock the gate, and he finally tried, but he dropped the keys and ran off before it was unlocked. Jack ducked under the water, found the keys, and managed to unlock the gate. We escaped, barely.

"When we were back outside, we struggled up the tilting deck to the stern—the same place where we'd met three days earlier. The ship rose higher and higher in the water, until finally, it had too much pressure and split in half. For a moment, it seemed like we were saved—the half of the ship that we were on was level in the water again. But then, the ship started rising again. Jack and I climbed over the railing, watching in horror as people fell into the water below. Jack told me to take a deep breath and hold it as the ship went under the water, and to not let go of his hand. I tried not to let go, but the suction pulled us apart.

"I got to the surface alone, with no sign of Jack. I kept looking for him until a man decided that I would make a good flotation device and shoved me under water. I struggled and screamed, and suddenly Jack was there. He drove the man away from me, and we swam out of the crowd, looking for a way out of the water. We found a piece of the ship, a section of wall or door, that was still floating, so we tried to climb on top of it—but there was only enough room for one person. Jack insisted that I get on top of it, while he stayed in the water.

"After a while, things started getting quiet. Jack kept telling me that the boats would come back for us, but I didn't really believe him. I told him I loved him—and he made me promise to survive, and go on. I didn't want to—I didn't believe we would survive. But I promised him what he asked, and we waited.

"Some time later, I saw a light moving over the water, and realized that a boat was coming back. I tried to wake Jack—he looked like he was sleeping—but he wouldn't wake up. And finally, I realized that he was dead, killed by the icy water. I almost gave up—but then I remembered my promise. I broke the ice that had frozen our hands together, and let him go. He sank into the ocean and disappeared. I looked for a way to alert the boat to my presence—my voice was too weak to call to it—and saw a whistle in a dead officer's mouth. I swam over to him, got the whistle, and blew with all my strength. The boat came back and rescued me.

"In the morning, the Carpathia arrived to pick up survivors. I hid away in third class, not wanting to go back to my old life. Cal came looking for me—but he didn't find me. I was safe. When the Carpathia docked in New York, I gave my name as Rose Dawson. Rose DeWitt Bukater was dead, but a new woman, Rose Dawson, was born in her place. I met Hope on the docks, and we went to her apartment to live. A few weeks later, I learned that I was with child—Jack's baby. Jack came to me in a dream and gave me this locket." She pulled the locket from beneath her collar; she was never without it. "He told me to show the picture of him to our daughter, Josephine. And then I woke up, knowing that Jack loved me and our daughter-to-be."

Luke was staring at her, wide-eyed with amazement. In all his years as a reporter, he had seldom come across such a heart-rending story. But the sinking of the Titanic had caused many people grief and loss, not the least of whom were Jack Dawson and Rose DeWitt Bukater. It was the biggest story he had ever come across—the story of a high society passenger on the Titanic, thought to be dead, but actually alive and well in New York City, having left her old life behind.

"Luke?" Rose spoke his name, wondering why he was staring at her so intently. He didn't intend to print her story, did he? He wouldn't blow her cover—or would he?

Luke shook his head, suddenly aware that he had been staring at her. "You—you didn't really lose your husband on the Titanic," was the first thing that came out of his mouth.

Rose shook her head stubbornly. "He was my husband, in every way that counted. We would have been married, had he lived. We would have made a life together, raised a family."

"You seem to have started the family without marriage."

Rose glared at him, suddenly angry. "And what is the matter with that? I know that it isn't usually done—but circumstances beyond our control changed things. I love my baby—and Jack. And yes, he was my husband—our souls were connected in a way that few people's ever are, and they always will be. Don't you judge me, Luke Calvert. You don't know me, or what my life was like. I don't regret anything."

"Including leaving your mother behind to mourn for you, or your fiancé to wonder why you left him for someone else?"

"Like I said, you don't know me, or why I did what I did. I was sorry to leave my mother behind—but I would never have been able to make my own life if I had gone back. Sometimes, you have to end old relationships and start over."

"You're right, Miss DeWitt Bukater. I don't know you. I thought you were one person, and now it seems that you are someone else entirely. I don't know what to think."

"If the stories of ordinary people were told, you'd find many where people are not what they seem, where their lives have taken directions no one thought possible. I'm an ordinary person now, Luke—and it's made me happier than I ever was before." She stopped, realizing how much power this man had. He could tell the world what she had done—and her newfound freedom would be gone. She would be Rose DeWitt Bukater again, a now-defiled high society debutante. Her life would be what it was before, but worse, because she had broken the unspoken laws of society.

"You won't print this, will you?" she asked, fearing the answer.

Luke looked at her, his eyes showing how betrayed he felt by her duplicity. "I don't know, Rose. I honestly can't say." He turned and walked away.

Rose collapsed back against the bench, shaking. The story had come out before she could even think about it—and now her days of freedom might be at an end. She didn't know if Luke would write about her or not—but she feared that telling him what had happened was the biggest mistake she'd ever made.

Wiping the sudden tears from her eyes, Rose stood up, clenching her jaw. She was going to be strong. She might have made the biggest mistake of her life—but she was a survivor. Whatever happened, she was going to make it.


	8. Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight

August 15, 1912

In spite of Rose's fears, no story about her appeared in the New York Times, or any other newspaper. Rose didn't know if Luke had decided against printing her story, or if it had been rejected for some other reason, but she was grateful every day that she read the paper and found nothing about her.

Still, she was worried. She saw Luke in Central Park occasionally, but he made no move to speak to her, nor did she attempt to approach him. She knew that her dishonesty had hurt him, more than he would ever admit, but she'd never really had a choice. She had created a new life and a new identity for herself when the Carpathia had docked, and she had no intention of ever going back to her old life. In spite of her worries, she was happier in the new life she had made than she had ever been as a member of the upper class.

It wasn't just herself she had to worry about now, anyway. There was also the baby to consider. High society would never accept the illegitimate child of a debutante and a steerage passenger. In her old world, her daughter would have been mocked and ostracized for her parentage. But in the new life Rose had created for herself, no one really knew her, or her past. As far as most people knew, she was a widow, and there was no shame in a widow having a child. Indeed, some people sympathized with her, having lost her husband and been left alone to raise their child. Others thought her fortunate that she would have a child to remember her husband by.

As August passed, Rose's middle slowly began to thicken, the baby beginning to show itself. On August fifteenth, four months to the night the Titanic sank, Rose felt movement for the first time. The baby's kicks were light, like the flutter of butterfly wings, but she was definitely moving.

Rose was helping Hope make dinner when she first felt little Josephine kicking. She stopped, her knife poised above the potatoes she had been peeling, and moved a hand to her stomach, willing the baby to kick again. A moment later, she felt the gentle, fluttering movement again.

"Hope!" Rose turned to her friend, her eyes sparkling with joy. "The baby is moving!" She pressed her hand against her middle, feeling the baby move again.

"Is this the first time it's moved?"

Rose nodded, her eyes shining with wonder. "It feels so strange...not bad, though. It doesn't hurt. It just...moves. How strange...to have a little person growing and moving inside me."

Hope nodded, smiling. "It is miraculous, when you first feel it. I remember when I was carrying my son...those first few kicks were so miraculous, and so strange. It was like I really knew that there was a baby then. Before that, it was just something that thickened my waist and made me sick in the mornings. After that, it was a real baby."

"Josephine's always been real to me," Rose responded, "but you're right. This is special. I just wish Jack was here...he would be so proud. Our baby...growing and moving, turning into someone you can feel and see." She set the knife down, stroking her stomach with both hands.

Hope just looked at her and smiled, seeing the joy on Rose's face.

*****

That night, Rose fell asleep early. She had been more tired over the past few months, and the excitement of feeling the baby move had worn her out. She fell asleep before sunset, her window open to catch whatever breezes blew past in the hot summer night.

Oddly, it didn't feel as though she were asleep. Even after her eyes closed, and the now-familiar bedroom faded into the mists of sleep, Rose felt strangely energized. The world around her was bright and sunny, with a cool breeze blowing around her. Looking around, she found herself standing in the park, as she did every day at lunch, but this was different—more quiet, more peaceful.

She jumped, startled, as a hand touched her shoulder. Whirling around, she saw Jack standing behind her, grinning.

"Jack!" she exclaimed, stepping forward. "What are you doing here?"

He shrugged. "I thought I'd visit for a while. I remember this place. Central Park. I made a few drawings here."

Rose smiled, then gave him a puzzled look. "Why are we here?"

"You come here every day. And unless I miss my guess, someone special to you comes here, too."

Rose immediately felt guilty. "Jack...Luke and I don't really mean anything to each other. I wouldn't betray you..."

"Rose, you can't betray me. I'm dead, remember? You may not realize it yet, but you and Luke Calvert are meant to be together. Why do you think he was assigned to be at the pier when the Carpathia docked that night?"

"He was there to get the story. He's a reporter."

"Stories like that aren't what he usually writes. Look closely at the paper and you'll see what I mean. No, there was a reason for him being there, and a reason that you saw him and mistook him for me. It was meant to happen that way."

Rose shook her head. "He hardly knows me. And he probably hates me now, after the way I lied about my past, and who I am."

"He doesn't hate you, Rose. He's upset that you lied to him, yes, but only because he cares for you."

"I don't think so, Jack. I keep waiting for him to print my story and tell the whole world what I did. I should never have told him the truth."

"Why not?"

Rose looked at Jack as though he were crazy. "He's a reporter. He could tell the world about me."

"But he won't." Rose started to speak, but Jack went on. "He's a good man, Rose, an honest man. He won't betray your trust."

"How can you be so sure?"

"I just am." He shrugged. "Rose, I would like nothing better than to be there with you right now, waiting for the birth of our first child. But I can't. I died, and you kept your promise and went on. I've been watching out for you, though, and I can honestly say that of all the men in the world, Luke Calvert is the one I would choose for you to spend your life with."

"So now you're trying to decide what I should do with my life?"

"I'm not trying to decide anything for you. I can't make your decisions. Only you can do that." He took her chin in his hand, looking into her eyes. "But you don't have to be afraid that he'll tell the world about you, Rose. You needed to tell your story to someone, and in spite of the fact that he could use your story for his own purposes, he won't. He's too honest, and he does care about you." He pulled her close, kissing her and resting his hand on her middle for a moment, feeling the baby move. "Everything is going to be all right, Rose. Trust me."

Rose gave him a tremulous smile. "I trust you. I always have."

Jack stepped away from her. "I have to go back now, Rose."

"No, Jack. Don't go yet. Please."

"I have to, Rose."

"No. You don't have to go. Stay here with me. I need you—_we need you." She put her hand on her stomach._

He smiled sadly. "You'll be all right, Rose. Both of you will be all right. You're strong, and you're smart—you'll be fine."

Even as Rose shook her head, he leaned forward and kissed her one more time. "You have your own life to live. Just like I told you, you're going to live a long time, and die an old lady, warm in her bed. You're going to have lots of babies—and Josephine will be the first. You'll have a good life—and someday we'll be together again. I promise." He squeezed her hand.

Rose nodded, fighting back tears. "I know. I love you, Jack."

"I love you, too, Rose."

He stepped away, a mist surrounding him and obscuring him from view. When the mist cleared, he was gone.

"Jack..." Rose whispered, tears filling her eyes as she looked at the place where he had stood. Then the park faded away, and she found herself back in her bedroom, gazing out the window.

Shakily, Rose got out of bed, going to stand before the mirror on the wall. She wiped at her tear-streaked face, looking at her pale face in the glass. _Was that real? she wondered._

Then she caught sight of the locket hanging around her neck. She had taken it off before going to bed, but now it was back around her neck, resting against the ruffle on her thin nightgown. Something about it caught her eye.

The locket had been plain before, but now the gold surface was delicately etched with entwined hearts. Opening it, she looked at the picture inside. Jack seemed to smile at her from the tiny photograph.

_It was real, she thought, tucking the locket inside her nightgown before lying down again. When she had needed Jack most, he had been there. He had known that she was afraid, and had brought her reassurance that everything would be all right._

Comforted now, Rose crawled back into bed, her fingers moving to clutch the locket before she fell asleep.


	9. Chapter Nine

Chapter Nine

September 15, 1912

Luke walked through Central Park, lost in thought. It had been two months since Rose had told him her story, two months since he had left in anger over her supposed betrayal. But now that he had had time to think about it, he realized that there had really been no betrayal.

Rose hadn't known him when she had first introduced herself as Rose Dawson, and she was trying to escape her past, escape the life that she had lived, and make a new life for herself and her child. Could he really blame her for not immediately trusting him with the truth? She was trying to keep a low profile, and telling her story to a reporter for the New York Times was hardly the way to stay hidden.

Luke didn't know quite why he had never printed Rose's story. In his anger, it had been the first idea that came to mind—to print her story, and tell the world what she had done, to return her dishonesty with a betrayal of her trust.

But he couldn't. Maybe it was her pleading eyes, begging him not to tell anyone, or the trust she had placed in him when she told her story, or the fact that, deep down, he cared more than he wanted to admit. Whatever it was, he had been unable to write and publish Rose's story, no matter how angry he was with her.

Luke was pulled from his thoughts by the voices of several men. This small group, who called themselves the Brotherhood of Moral Righteousness, had recently established themselves in the park, harassing anyone they thought didn't measure up to their high moral standards.

In truth, the Brotherhood was little more than a group of idle men with nothing better to fill their time. Most people looked upon them with scorn, or amusement at best, but they had recently made headlines when they openly confronted a young woman in the park with two small children and no ring on her finger. The men had followed her through the park, harassing her and the children, even going so far as to throw garbage when they grew brave enough. The young woman had finally complained to her employer, one of the wealthiest men in the city, who had used his considerable influence to have the men arrested for threatening his children and their governess.

The group had disappeared for a few weeks, only to return in greater force once the scandal had died down. The attention from the newspapers had brought other equally disgruntled men to their cause, and the Brotherhood made parts of the park extremely unpleasant for anyone whose views or behavior differed from theirs, particularly women. Suffragists, working women, the poor and homeless, immigrants—all were easy targets for the bigoted, intolerant group.

In the main, these men still made more noise than anything else, but they had been growing bolder. Luke could hear them from nearly a hundred yards away, shouting and harassing some hapless woman.

"Whore!"

"Slut!"

"Daughter of Satan!" shouted one particularly bold man.

"You and your bastard are corrupting our society. You shouldn't be allowed to walk the streets!"

The voice that answered back was unsettlingly familiar. "My child is not a bastard! I'm a widow, and before you judge me, you should look to yourselves! How many of you have bastard children, or other skeletons in your closet? Hmm? Don't judge me, you worthless, self-righteous dogs!"

Her words only served to inflame their self-righteous anger more. Even as Luke began to run toward the sound of the conflict, the was a yelp of shock and indignation from the woman.

"Don't you throw garbage at me! You're nothing more than white trash, all of you. Human garbage, every single one!"

Luke rushed up just as the man who had called her a daughter of Satan scooped up a handful of gravel and threw it, hitting her and one of his compatriots who had been advancing on her. His friend stopped, turning to brawl with the man who had hit him with the gravel.

"What is going on here?!" Luke demanded, though he knew perfectly well.

"These sorry excuses for men finally got up the courage to speak their minds," Rose told him, sneering at her attackers. "They've been following me for days, every time I come here at lunch break."

Luke could well imagine why it had taken the men so long to go after her. They frequented this particular part of the park, but they were most interested in harassing those who would cower and give them the attention they wanted. Rose tended to turn her nose up at anyone she thought unworthy of her attention, ignoring them as though they did not even exist. It was a holdover from her years in high society, but she applied this snobbishness far more selectively now. The Brotherhood of Moral Righteousness, however, was been just the sort that she wanted nothing to do with.

He wondered what had finally made her react to their taunts, but before he could ask, someone else picked up a rock and threw it, hitting Rose in the shoulder. With a snarl, she advanced on the men, claws bared.

"You worthless bastards!"

Luke grabbed her arm and pulled him behind her as the men reacted, grouping together as though to defend themselves from her attack. Rose was brave, Luke had no doubt, but getting into a battle with six men was a losing proposition, one that was likely to cost her her unborn baby.

Rose tried to move around him, but he spoke up before she could renew her attack. "Why don't you find someone else to harass?" he suggested. "Someone who's actually guilty of something?"

"Don't try to defend her, Calvert," the ringleader of the group spoke up. Luke had been the one who had interviewed him after he had been arrested for harassing the governess. "She nothing but a little whore."

"How would you know?" Luke raised an eyebrow. "Do you know her?"

"I don't need to know her. She's in a family way and has no wedding ring. Obviously, she's not married. Besides that, she works. A woman's place is in the home, taking care of the house and children."

"You don't know anything about my life!" Rose shot back, still trying to get around Luke. "Don't tell me what I should and should not do!"

"She's a widow," Luke interjected, "with a child on the way. The men who killed her husband took everything of value—including her wedding ring. Can you really condemn her for being robbed, or for trying to survive?"

Rose's eyes widened at Luke's defense of her, but she hid her surprise, not allowing the men to know that the story had been made up on the spot.

"She should have found another husband to take care of her. Why, my wife would never consider working outside the home. And she would never allow anyone to take her wedding ring."

"If I was your wife, I would leave my ring on the table and jump in the river," Rose retorted, finally breaking free of Luke's grip. "My husband was a better man than any of you."

"If he was such a good man, why did he get himself killed? And why didn't he leave you enough money to live on?"

"Because that's not the way things were. Life doesn't always work out the way we'd like."

"It's a pity those thieves killed him instead of you. Women like you shouldn't be allowed to live."

"You unimaginable bastard." Rose flew forward, ready to do battle.

An empty can bounced off her forehead, making her even angrier. Luke grabbed the sash on her dress to hold her back, but succeeded only in ripping it.

Suddenly, a loud whistle rang through the air as a police officer rode up. Dismounting, he demanded, "What is going on here?"

The six men who had been harassing Rose suddenly realized how much trouble they were in and tried to run, but they were so surprised and disorganized that they crashed into each other, trying to avoid the officer, the horse, and Luke and Rose.

The officer grabbed two of them and banged their heads together. Ordinarily, Rose would have been shocked at the brutality, but at the moment she believed the men were getting what was coming to them.

The other four men ran off, proving their cowardice in the face of adversity. The officer held tightly to the two men he had grabbed.

"Just what did you think you were doing? Didn't the judge tell you to disband and stay out of the park?" He snapped handcuffs on both of them.

"They were attacking me, sir, accusing me of being a whore," Rose told him, stepping up and smirking at the two arrestees.

The officer narrowed his eyes, looking as though he wondered if the men were correct in their assumption. Rose recognized the look and glared back at him.

"I am not a whore, sir, nor have I ever been. I am a widow. And no matter what, they had no call to attack me." She wiped at a streak that the garbage had left on her dress, then rubbed her shoulder where the rock had hit it.

"We have the right to assemble," one of the men argued, glaring at Rose, Luke, and the officer.

"You have the right to assemble _peaceably_," the officer told him, leading both men away. "Not to badger everyone you meet and attack women with garbage and rocks."

Rose couldn't make out what the man said, but she suspected it was something obscene, especially after the officer punched him in the back of the head, leaving him groaning.

As the men were led away, she turned to Luke, eyeing him warily. She had avoided him the past couple of months, not wanting to face him. Now, he had come to her rescue.

"I...ah...thank you," she stammered, not sure what to say. What had he been doing in this part of the park? He had been avoiding her, too.

"What happened? Why did they attack you?" He knew, from what Rose and the men had shouted at each other, that they had been watching her for a long time. But why did they attack her today?

"They wanted a reaction out of me, and I finally gave it to them. Cowards that they are, they couldn't stand the thought of being ignored, and they stared after me every day. But today, they finally got the courage to speak up and insult me and my baby. They can say what they want about me, but no one insults my baby."

"How did they know you were pregnant? You're still hardly showing—it could just be weight gain on your part."

"They've been watching, seeing how my stomach was slowly expanding. This dress is too tight, but it was the only clean one I had, so I wore it. They saw my middle straining against the sash and decided to protect society from me and my unborn baby." She saw a bench and headed for it, only now realizing how scared she had been. Her hands were shaking.

"Sit down." Luke helped her to sit on the bench, gripping her shaking hands. "Those men have been harassing women for months now, and they especially like this part of the park. Maybe you should find a new place to walk until things die down."

"I'm not going to let them drive me away. I have just as much right to be in the park as them. More, in fact. No judge has told me to stay out of the park. No, I'll be back tomorrow—though maybe I'll find someone to walk with." She pulled her hands away, tying her torn sash as best she could.

"I'll walk with you," Luke volunteered before he thought about it.

Rose forced a smile. "Thank you, but it's not necessary. You don't need to sacrifice your time for me. Thank you for defending me today, but—you don't have to walk with me. There's a new girl working in the shop—perhaps she'll walk with me."

"They'll harass both of you," Luke pointed out, "and possibly scare her away. I don't think they'll bother you if you're with me—especially not after today."

"Luke, I can take care of myself. I've been taking care of myself for five months. You don't have to sacrifice yourself."

"It wouldn't be a sacrifice. Look, Rose, I can't claim to understand you, or why you did what you did, but I'm not going to reject you for it."

"You don't have to. You already have."

"I was wrong to do so. And just so you know, I never printed your story in the newspaper, and I never will—unless you want me to."

"Thank you, Luke. I know you didn't. I've checked every day. For a reporter, you have a lot of integrity."

"Rose, you're no picnic yourself, but I like you. Don't ask me why, but I do. There's just something about you." He broke off, realizing that Rose was staring at him, wide-eyed. "What? What did I say?"

He was totally unprepared for Rose's reaction. Bursting into tears, she flung her arms around him. "Jack was right. He knew. He knew right from the start. That's why you were at Pier 54 that night, and that's why we met again. He knew all along what was going to happen."

"What do you mean? What are you talking about?" For all that Luke considered himself an expert on people and their emotions and reactions, this mystified him.

"Nothing. Nothing at all." Rose sat up, wiping her eyes. "Only that certain things were meant to happen, and we were one of them." She smiled brightly.

And deep down inside, Luke understood.


	10. Chapter Ten

Chapter Ten

October 15, 1912

Luke and Rose rekindled their relationship in the weeks following the incident in the park. As fall wore on, the days growing shorter and cooler and the nights longer, they began to see more and more of each other, meeting each day in the park during Rose's lunch break, and often going to dinner and a moving picture show on her days off.

There had been a subtle shift in their relationship, one that neither could define, but both instinctively felt. Rose was sure that Jack was behind the change, though she never mentioned her thoughts to Luke. Luke didn't know how or why things had changed, but he did know that Rose had become very special to him.

One evening in mid-October Rose decided to return Luke's kindness in taking her out so often, inviting him to dinner at her apartment. She and Hope outdid themselves cooking; Rose even prepared a fancy dessert that she had learned to make as a member of the upper class, though she couldn't afford all of the expensive ingredients and had to find substitutes.

Luke arrived promptly at six o'clock, bringing a bouquet of flowers to decorate the table. While Hope slipped into the kitchen to put the flowers in water, Rose invited Luke in and offered him a seat on the second-hand couch in the main room.

Luke nodded, accepting the offer, then gestured for Rose to sit beside him. She did so, glancing around the apartment nervously.

"I apologize for the mess," she told him, referring to the collection of well-worn furniture and the faded rug.

"What mess?" Luke asked, knowing what she was referring to, but pretending not to. He knew that Rose and Hope didn't have much money. "It looks better than my apartment, at least before the housekeeper gets to it. She only comes once a week, and I never was the tidiest person around. Your place is clean, at least."

"Yes, well...we don't often have guests. We gave it a thorough cleaning yesterday."

"Hmm...a good housekeeper. I may just keep you," he joked.

Rose laughed, a little nervously. It was only a joke, of course, but their relationship had been progressing much faster than she had expected, even with Jack's assurance that it was meant to be. She liked Luke, she really did, but things were going faster than she was comfortable with.

When Luke reached to hold her hand, she suddenly pulled away. Getting to her feet, she hurried toward the kitchen.

"I'd best check on dinner before it burns," she explained, hurrying through the door.

Hope was taking the roast out of the oven, transferring it to a blue and white platter. They had set the table in the main room, though Hope and Rose usually took their meals in the kitchen itself, eschewing formality in favor of the more casual atmosphere both preferred.

Tonight, however, they had a guest, and Rose, in spite of her nervousness, wanted to make a good impression. Hope raised an eyebrow as Rose burst into the kitchen.

"Abandoning your guest already?" she asked, carving a few slices of meat.

"I...I...Hope, he thinks I'm a good housekeeper!"

"And?"

"And he thinks I'm a good housekeeper!"

"Rose, you are a good housekeeper. I'll admit that you learned most of it from me, but you do know how to keep things reasonably tidy now."

"He joked that he might keep me!" Rose wrung her hands.

"So what's wrong with that?"

"Hope, what if he means it?!"

Hope sighed. "Rose, he was joking. I know that you still carry a torch for Jack, but you have to learn to accept other people. He's not going to hurt you, you know."

"I know, but...wait! How do you know he won't hurt me?"

"I just know." At Rose's cynical expression, she added, "I'm a few years older than you, Rose, and I was never so sheltered. I've seen a few things. I know that you had a bad experience with the man you were engaged to, and that you still love another man, but you can trust this one. Now, take this out and invite him to sit down."

Rose sighed, taking the platter of beef, potatoes, and carrots. As she moved carefully through the door, a thought suddenly struck her. Hope had known about Cal—but Rose had never spoken to her of him. How in the world had she known?

*****

The three conversed lightly over dinner. Luke complimented both Hope and Rose on the meal, but his main focus was on Rose. He was especially appreciative of the dessert she had made, and Rose began to relax, lulled by the friendly conversation and Luke's stories about his work.

At the end of the meal, however, Hope got up to clear away the dishes and wash them. When Rose moved to help her, she waved her away.

"Luke is your guest, Rose, and I can certainly wash the dishes alone." When Rose opened her mouth to protest, she added, "For a former member of the upper class, you certainly don't seem to remember how to entertain guests." With that, Hope walked into the kitchen.

Rose sank back into her chair, her face flaming. Even in the dim light, Luke noticed.

"She's in a bit of a temper, isn't she?"

"Well...ah...yes. Yes, she is." Rose knew that Hope wanted her to be more friendly to Luke, and wasn't going to give her an excuse to avoid him. _She didn't have to be so rude, though,_ Rose thought, then stopped, wondering how Hope had known about her upper class background. Rose had never told her about that, either.

_Could Luke have told her? she_ wondered. Luke had been very discreet about what Rose had told him, but he knew that Hope and Rose were close, and might have told Hope Rose's secrets because of it. Or, he might have mentioned these things to her, assuming that she already knew. Luke didn't see Hope often, Rose knew, but she didn't know where each of them was every minute.

Looking up at Luke, Rose folded her hands in her lap, trying to relax. Luke looked back at her, his eyes twinkling in the candlelight.

"That was a good dinner, Rose," he told her.

"Thank you. Hope did a lot of the cooking too, though."

"Not that dessert. I've hobnobbed with the wealthy on occasion, and that was definitely a fancy dessert. I somehow doubt that she knows how to make it."

Rose smiled, relaxing a little. "No, she doesn't. I learned to make it in school. Even in high society, the ability to do a few useful things is accepted."

Luke laughed. "You don't seem to have many fond memories of your old life."

Rose looked at the table. "Some things were good, I must admit. I never had to struggle, or wonder where my next meal was coming from, or wonder if I would have the money to pay the rent. I didn't have to work, or cook, or do laundry. Those things were nice. But on the other hand, I had no freedom. My life was planned out for me, from the moment I woke in the morning to the moment I fell asleep at night. So many things were unacceptable—even little things like laughing outright, instead of politely at someone's witty remark, or discussing ideas outside of what was acceptable. Life was comfortable—but I could see exactly what I would do and where I would go. An endless parade of yachts and polo matches, parties and cotillions—always the same narrow people, the same mindless chatter. And so I broke away. I didn't do it alone—Jack helped me find the courage to change my life—but I will never return to that life. Even if someday I am the richest woman in the world, I won't go back to it. My freedom is too important to me."

"I admire that, Rose. Not many women—not many men, either—have that kind of courage, to break away from society and live their own lives, for themselves. You've made a life for yourself—but what about your baby? Can you continue to live like this with a baby?"

"I can only try." Rose shrugged. "Many families are much worse off than me, and yet they manage to survive and even thrive. I will do the best I can for my daughter."

"How can you be so sure that it's a girl?"

"Jack told me." She ignored Luke's skeptical look. "Her name will be Josephine, and I will raise her to appreciate freedom, to love and respect herself and others, just as her father and I did."

"It will be hard to raise a child alone."

"I can do it, just as many other women have and still do. Widows, single mothers, women who are divorced or abandoned—it's hard, but many still make lives for themselves and their children. To be sure, it's too much for some—but then, not all marriages work well, either. It all depends on the people and their circumstances." She thought of Cal, and how marriage to him would have turned out—not well, she was certain.

"But if you had a choice, to marry and make life easier for yourself and your baby, would you?"

"I honestly can't say, Luke. I don't have that choice. If Jack had lived, I would have married him, but as it is, I will simply do my best on my own. What more can I do?"

"Rose...I've been thinking about this for quite some time..."

Rose looked at him, her heart suddenly pounding. "Thinking about what?" she asked, trying to keep her voice calm.

"Rose, you've become very special to me, and I could offer you a good life, while you still had the freedom to do the things you want." He paused. "Rose, I'm asking you to marry me."

Rose's mouth snapped open and shut, unable to form a response at first. "I...I...do you love me?" she blurted out. She knew that he would allow her to keep her freedom, and provide a good home for her baby, but she had vowed to herself when she had changed her name that she would never marry for anything but love.

"Yes...yes, Rose, I do. Do you love me?"

"I...I don't know." Rose looked straight at him. "Luke, you're a good friend, a close friend—maybe the best friend I've ever had. But I don't know what I feel. It's too soon. Jack has only been gone for six months—I don't feel ready to move on yet. I'm expecting his child—I can't simply forget him. Even if I could, even if what we had wasn't so precious to me, the baby would remind me every day. No, Luke, I can't marry you. Maybe one day—but not yet."

"When, then?"

"I don't know. Whenever my heart feels that it is time to let go of the past. It could be tomorrow...it could be ten years from now. I can't say. If, when that time comes, we are still...together...maybe then it would work. But I won't make a promise that I don't know that I can keep."

Rose turned her head as the kitchen door opened and Hope walked out. She stared at her, but Hope gave no indication of having heard the conversation. However, her eyes never left Luke's, and after a moment, Luke turned back to Rose.

"I do love you, Rose—but I understand. If we are meant to be together, as you said, then we will be, in time. If not...you've still got a staunch supporter. I won't give up on you. Whatever happens..."

"...we'll always remain friends," Rose finished for him.

Luke nodded, smiling at her in spite of himself.


	11. Chapter Eleven

Chapter Eleven

Thanksgiving, 1912

The cold weather of late autumn held New York firmly in its grip, and Thanksgiving was fast approaching. Rose looked forward to the holiday—she had much to be thankful for—but she worried about preparing for the holiday, and what the day would bring. She had never prepared a large meal before, and she and Hope had invited several friends and neighbors to their apartment for dinner. Although Rose's cooking skills had improved greatly since she had left her old life behind, she still had a lot to learn, and she didn't want to make any mistakes at such an important occasion.

But there was something else on Rose's mind as well—Luke and his proposal. Neither had said a word about it, but it hung in the air between them, always in the thoughts of both. The tension over the proposal, and Rose's confusion over what she should do, had put a damper on their conversation and strained the easy camaraderie of earlier times.

Although Rose had told Luke that she wouldn't marry him, she couldn't help but remember Jack's prediction that they would end up together. Was she going against what was supposed to happen, or had she done the right thing in choosing not to marry until she was ready?

Rose had developed something of a fatalistic view since the sinking of the Titanic—if something was meant to happen, it would, and fate would conspire to make it happen, one way or another. It was just that unknown factor, the one way or another, that concerned her, that made her wonder if she had made the right decision. If she was truly meant to be with Luke, she would be, but how and when were questions that she couldn't answer. It had taken a tragedy to bring them together in the first place, and she hoped that it wouldn't take another to settle things between them once and for all.

And yet, she couldn't go back on her answer. Not yet. She had loved Jack from the moment she first saw him, standing high above him on the Titanic, and such a love came only once in a lifetime. She could love again, but it would never be the depth of love that she had felt for Jack.

But at the same time, Rose had begun to accept, deep in her heart, that Jack was gone. He wasn't coming back, no matter how much she wished it. And her heart had begun to open, to accept Luke, just as Jack had predicted. He hadn't wanted her to mourn him forever, to give up on all the things that life had to offer. Through Jack, she had gained her freedom and a life of her own, and now, he was helping her make the most of it.

*****

On Thanksgiving Day, Rose awoke early, heading to the kitchen for a quick breakfast before beginning the meal preparations. Hope was already in the kitchen, sipping a cup of coffee, when Rose came in.

"Good morning," she told Rose cheerfully, pushing aside her empty plate.

Though the sun was just beginning to rise, Hope had been awake for hours, though that was not unusual. Rose had often heard her roaming the apartment at odd hours, sometimes whispering to herself as though thinking aloud about someone, perhaps her lost husband and son.

This morning, however, Hope wasn't mulling over the past. They had a feast to prepare, and she had to instruct Rose on the intricacies of preparing certain dishes.

Rose, for her part, wasn't ready to get to work yet. Waddling around the kitchen, she piled food on a plate and sat down to eat. Though she, too, was eager to get to work, she was eating for two, and nothing was getting done until she'd fed herself and the baby.

Later, as Hope showed Rose how to prepare the turkey, she casually brought up the subject of Luke.

"So, Rose, I've invited my friends to dinner, but who did you invite? How many people are we cooking for, anyway?"

"Well, I invited a friend from work, and..."

"And Luke?" Hope asked, eyeing Rose closely.

"And Luke," Rose confirmed, blushing a little, though she wasn't sure why. She and Luke had been friends for months, and there was no reason to blush about friendship. But Hope always seemed to think it was turning into something more.

And maybe she was right. "How is Luke?" Hope asked, chopping some onions to put in the stuffing.

Rose marveled at how Hope could chop onions without her eyes watering. "He's fine. We see each other almost every day."

"And have you thought any more about his proposal?"

Rose's mouth dropped open. She hadn't mentioned the proposal to Hope, and Hope hadn't seen Luke since then, so how did she know about it?

"Were you eavesdropping on us?" Rose asked indignantly.

"Maybe." Hope gave Rose a look of wide-eyed innocence, making her laugh.

"Hope, I'm not ready for marriage yet. It's too soon."

"You're right. You should probably wait until after you have the baby. Spring would be a lovely time for a wedding."

"Hope!" Rose couldn't really be offended, even if Hope was interfering in her life. They had both survived the Titanic, and both knew the pain of losing loved ones to it. Hope was trying, as best she could, to bring happiness to Rose's life. Even if Rose didn't always appreciate it.

"Hope, when I'm ready, I'll set my memories aside and love again. But not yet."

"It'll happen sooner than you think."

"So what are you saying?" Rose was growing angry now. "Are you saying that I should forget Jack? How can I forget him? I loved him. He's the father of my daughter."

"I'm not saying that you should forget him, Rose. You won't ever forget him. But life does go on, and you're a part of life. And you're looking toward the future already; I can tell."

"Of course I'm thinking about the future. I have a baby on the way."

"You're thinking of more than that. Your baby is important, but you're thinking about the other things in life, too."

"Hope, if you think you can talk me into changing my mind about Luke's proposal..."

"I'm not trying to change your mind. Only you can do that."

Rose looked at her, startled, as she always did when someone said something that Jack had once said to her.

"So you assume I'll change my mind? You think you know me so well?"

"I don't assume anything. There's just some things a person knows."

Rose stared at her, dumbfounded. It was as though Hope had looked inside her heart and seen her dilemma, and cut through the confusion in one fell swoop.

*****

As evening approached, the guests began to arrive. There were really only a few guests, three friends of Hope, plus Rose's co-worker and Luke, but it seemed like a lot of people in the small apartment.

Hope bustled around the kitchen, having long ago given up on teaching Rose how to cook a Thanksgiving dinner. Rose was too distracted, too easily upset since their conversation that morning, so Hope had shooed her out of the kitchen. Rose had busied herself cleaning and setting the table, then had gone out and bought flowers from a street vendor to put on the table.

As the guests began to arrive, Hope stepped out of the kitchen to greet them, then hurried back, leaving Rose to entertain. Rose, nervous about hosting her first party since she left high society, wished that Hope would come out and talk to the guests herself, especially the ones Rose didn't know, but her roommate was absorbed in the task of finishing the meal.

Rose was relieved when her own guests arrived. She answered the door when someone knocked, to see her co-worker, Ella, standing at the door with a bowl of some kind of vegetables.

"Come in," Rose told her, ushering her guest in. She took the bowl from Ella and went into the kitchen, so that Hope could warm it up, then hurried back out. At least now she knew someone.

As she was introducing Ella to the other guests, someone knocked on the door again. Rose, knowing who it was, wiped her hands on her skirt nervously and went to answer it.

"Hello, Rose," Luke greeted her as she opened the door. He handed her a bouquet of flowers, the first he had given her since she had rejected his proposal.

"Hello, Luke. Thank you. Come in." Rose hurried to put the flowers in water.

A moment later, Hope came out of the kitchen. As Rose hurried to introduce her to Ella, Hope cast surreptitious glances at Luke, her mind working over ways to encourage the relationship between him and Rose. How long would it take to bring their slowly blossoming romance to fruition?

A thought occurred to her. "Thank you, everyone, for your contributions to this dinner," she said, knowing that Luke hadn't brought a dish to share. If he had, Rose would already have brought it to the kitchen.

Luke slapped a hand to his forehead. "I knew I forgot something!" he exclaimed. "I bought a pie to bring yesterday, and then left it sitting in the icebox."

"That's all right," Rose started to say, but Hope interrupted her.

"You only live about fifteen blocks from here. With your car, you should be able to make it home and back in time for dinner. Rose can go with you."

"Hope," Rose hissed under her breath, knowing what her friend was doing. To Luke, she said, "Don't trouble yourself. We've got plenty of food, and you did bring flowers to brighten the table."

Hope glanced at the flowers, smiling slightly. Luke had been more eager to bring something to Rose than he had been to eat, or else he would have remembered the pie. This boded well.

"There really aren't enough desserts," Hope corrected Rose, "and we really could use another pie. Why don't you two go and get it? It'll be a good hour before dinner is ready. There's time."

"Sure. We can go get it," Luke responded, not realizing what Hope was doing. He headed for the apartment door, helping Rose into her coat.

Rose shot Hope a baleful look, but Hope only smiled, giving them a little wave. "Hurry back, you two."

Rose scowled as they made their way down the stairs, her temper simmering at Hope's obvious matchmaking. Who had given Hope the right to interfere in her life? Even if she didn't mind taking a short drive with Luke, she still didn't like being manipulated.

"I apologize," she told Luke, as he helped her into the car.

"For what?" he asked, wondering if she'd done something he hadn't been aware of.

"For what Hope is doing, trying to play matchmaker."

"She is?" Luke hadn't even noticed the tension between Rose and Hope.

Rose sighed, wishing she could take the words back. Luke had obviously had no idea of what Hope was attempting, and now it looked like Rose was throwing herself at him.

"Forget I said anything." She sighed, waiting as Luke started the car.

When it was running, he got into the driver's seat and started down the street. "She means well," he told her, steering the car through the light evening traffic.

"She may mean well, but she doesn't need to be manipulating me—us," she corrected, knowing that Hope had definite plans for both of their futures. "My mother meant well, too, when she played matchmaker between Cal and me."

"You aren't really comparing me to your ex-fiancé?" Luke asked, knowing how Rose had felt about Cal.

"No, of course not. You're much more of a gentleman than he could ever hope to be, and I like you much more. I simply don't like having someone try to direct my life."

"I wouldn't think you would. You're much too independent, Rose. I don't think anyone can run your life. I think Hope knows it, too, but she can't resist."

"Luke, I don't expect you to understand. You're a man; you've always had the freedom to go where you wanted and do what you wanted. I never had that kind of freedom before, and I'm not eager to give it up."

"Men don't have as much freedom as you might think, Rose. We're expected to be the breadwinners, to work a steady job, settle down with an acceptable wife, and produce heirs, even if we don't have much to pass on. I'm sure there are other ways to live, but they aren't what society expects."

"To hell with society." Rose clapped a hand over her mouth, realizing what she had said. "Pardon my French."

Luke laughed. "You do know how to speak your mind, don't you?"

"I most certainly do. And as to society's expectations, I'm going to meet their expectations when those expectations match what I want. Otherwise, why should I? This is a new century. Women are pushing for their rights and freedoms, and I want to be a part of that, too."

They had reached Luke's apartment building. He shut off the car, then turned to Rose.

"I should only be a few minutes. Do you want to come up with me, or wait in the car?"

Rose shivered in the evening chill. "I'll come up with you. It's cold in here." She accepted his help in climbing from the car.

When they reached Luke's apartment, he opened the door quickly before any of the neighbors could come out and wonder what he was doing with a pregnant woman outside his apartment. Rose stepped in, looking around curiously. She had never seen the apartment before.

It was neatly furnished, though it lacked the homey touches that a woman would add to the decor. Still, it looked lived in, even without those extra touches. Several books and magazines were scattered on a coffee table near a large horsehair chair, and a discarded shoe sat incongruously on the seat of the chair, evidence that Luke wasn't always neat. A dirty plate and cup sat on the table next to the chair.

Luke shrugged, a little sheepishly, as Rose viewed the mess. "I'm not much of a housekeeper," he confessed, "and my paid housekeeper only comes on Saturdays."

"No wonder you wanted to marry me," Rose teased him. "I may not be the greatest housekeeper in the world, but I can certainly do better than this."

Luke laughed, teasing her back. "Oh...you'd do well enough."

"You'd better hope so, if I change my mind about marrying you."

"Have you thought about changing your mind?" Luke asked, suddenly serious.

Rose looked up, not sure how to answer. The truth was, she had thought about it, but sheer stubbornness, along with an unwillingness to let go of her memories of Jack, had kept her from speaking of it.

"I...I don't...I don't really know. Let's get that pie."

Luke watched as Rose walked around, looking for the kitchen. Finally, he showed her where it was, taking the pie from the icebox himself.

He glanced at the time. "We should be getting back, before Hope serves dinner without us." Balancing the pie in one hand, he offered Rose his arm and escorted her to the door.

As they walked back out onto the dark street, Rose shivered, then looked up in surprise as Luke put a warming, friendly arm around her. She took the pie from him, climbing awkwardly into the car.

Even in the cold, dark car, Rose felt an unexplainable feeling of warmth. It was from inside her, she realized, brought on by Luke's presence. She trusted him, cared for him, and now, in this moment, she at last realized that she also loved him.

Hope had been right. She didn't need to assume that Rose would change her mind about Luke's proposal; she had known that Rose would, and she had been right. On this night, a night to give thanks for all of one's blessings, Rose had finally learned just how many blessings she had.

As Luke climbed into the car, Rose suddenly turned to him, her eyes shining with her newfound knowledge. Luke was indeed special to her, someone that she could love and trust, someone who would respect her and not expect her to change for his sake. He loved her just as she was, and he had been waiting for her to see what was in her own heart.

"Luke," she began. "About that proposal...is the offer still open?"

He turned to her, hope shining in his eyes. "Of course. I said I would wait, didn't I?"

"Then, in that case, I think your wait is over. Luke, will you marry me?"

Luke looked at her in surprise, not expecting Rose to propose to him. But he knew the answer, just as much as he'd known it over a month before.

"Yes, Rose. Let's get married. I love you."

And Rose threw her arms around him as they shared their first real kiss.


	12. Chapter Twelve

Chapter Twelve

December 15, 1912

Rose stood at the back of the church, her bouquet in her hands. A few feet ahead of her, Hope turned and gave her an encouraging smile.

Rose smoothed her elegant, white satin dress, with its empire waist and long sleeves. Her hand moved to touch her veil, trailing down her back in a cloud of satin and lace. It was her wedding day.

She took a deep breath as the baby moved inside her, kicking beneath the concealing dress. She put a hand on her stomach, feeling it move. Today, she was getting married, and in a month, she would bear her first child. How different this was from what she had expected a year ago!

A year ago, Rose had been engaged to Cal, planning for a June wedding. She hadn't been happy about her impending marriage even then, but had gone along with it because it was expected. After all, that was what young ladies of the upper class did—they debuted at fancy parties when they were sixteen, found a suitable husband, and married soon after. Rose had turned sixteen on April 10, 1911—one year to the day the Titanic had set sail. And what a difference that year had made.

Now, instead of being married to Cal, and possibly expecting his child, she was marrying a man considered wholly unsuitable by those she had grown up with—a reporter, someone who was looked down upon, except for when publicity was needed. And she was carrying the child of a man she had only known for three days, but would forever love.

By any standards, it was unconventional—but Rose didn't care. She had found love for the second time in her life, and, while it would never have the depth of the love she had shared with Jack, it was nevertheless real and lasting. And how often was a woman blessed with two great loves in a lifetime?

Rose looked toward the altar, smiling as the music started and Hope began to walk up ahead of her. As she straightened her back, preparing to walk up the aisle herself, she sensed someone standing beside her.

Turning, she saw Jack, dressed in the same tuxedo he had worn the night he had come to dinner on the Titanic. Gasping in surprise, she almost dropped her bouquet, but he steadied her hand.

"Jack," she whispered. "How...what are you doing here?"

"Shh," he whispered in reply. "I'm giving you away, Rose. Isn't it traditional for someone to give the bride away?"

"Yes," she replied, "but that's usually her father."

He grinned. "Well, he's watching this now, pleased as anything with the man his little girl is marrying. But it's up to me to give you away." He sobered. "After all, had things turned out differently, it would have been me waiting for you at the altar. But fate stepped in, and you're going to spend a lifetime with someone else. I wish it could have been otherwise, but there's no changing the past. I can't spend my life with you—it's over—but I couldn't think of a better, more loving husband for you than Luke Calvert. In spite of everything, Rose, you've been given more than most women could even dream of."

"Oh, Jack. I wish..." She trailed off.

"...that today was our wedding day?" he asked softly. "That day will come, Rose. When the time comes, I'll be waiting. But you have your whole life ahead of you, and I can see in your eyes that you love Luke. Sometimes life is like that—it takes you in directions you never expected. But it's always worth it, Rose. Really it is. Just do what I did, in the few years that I had in this world—make each day count. You're the strongest, smartest, most beautiful woman I've ever known—and you always will be. You'll make it."

"I know. But I couldn't have done it without you, Jack. Thank you."

He held out his hand, smiling sadly as he set it on her arm. "It's time to go now, Rose. You're going to get married, and have a good life. You'll tell our daughter about me, and what we had together, so that she'll understand. And you'll make a good wife for Luke. He's the luckiest man alive, marrying you."

Rose nodded, too choked up to say a word. Somehow, she knew that this was the last time she would see Jack—at least in this lifetime. Smiling tremulously, she stepped into the aisle, Jack at her side.

No one noticed that Rose did not walk up the aisle alone, or realized that she was walking at the side of her first love, escorted up the aisle by the man who, had fate been kind, would have been the man waiting for her that day.

As they reached the steps leading up to the altar, Jack stopped. Taking his hand from her arm, he whispered, "Go to him, Rose. Make the life I always knew you could." As she nodded, he stepped in front of her, giving her one last kiss. "Good-bye, Rose. I love you. Be happy."

And with that, he was gone, and Rose handed her bouquet to Hope and came to stand beside Luke. Jack's words echoed in her mind, and she turned to Luke, her face lighting in a smile as she stepped forward into her future.


	13. Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Thirteen

January 15, 1913

Rose waddled down the street, her footing precarious as she avoided icy patches. The baby was due any day, and Luke hadn't wanted her to go out, but there hadn't been much left in the icebox, so she had slipped out to the market, intending to be gone only a short time.

She hadn't counted on how slowly she would have to walk to avoid the patches of ice. She couldn't afford to slip and fall—not so close to the birth of her baby. Her enormous middle made walking harder, too, slowing her further, and the trip back from the market, weighed down with bags of food, made her wish she had taken Luke's advice. He would have driven her to the market when he came home from work, or gone there himself, if she had asked. Certainly, it would have been easier than walking there and back.

Rose put a hand on her stomach as another pain moved through it, tightening her muscles and seeming to press down on the baby. The pains had been coming since the previous evening, so she hadn't thought much about it. No one had explained what to expect when the baby came, so she was only beginning to realize that she was in labor—and she still hoped to get home before the pains became more intense.

She pulled her coat tighter around herself as a gust of wind blew her hood back. The sky had been clear and blue, with the clouds on the distant horizon, when she had set out three hours earlier, but the storm had blown in more quickly than she expected. Even as she moved slowly down the street, snow swirled around her, making her shiver violently.

Only three more blocks, she told herself, clutching the bags tighter and forging ahead, only to stagger precariously as her foot slipped on a patch of ice. She steadied herself, her heart pounding.

It was after dark now, and the storm grew stronger with every passing minute. She steadied herself against a light pole, looking around in hopes of seeing a cab, but the street was almost deserted. Few people wanted to go out in the storm and dark.

She bent forward as another pain lanced through her, clutching her middle. Three blocks had never seemed so long, and she wished more than anything that she had followed Luke's advice and stayed home. So what if there wasn't much food in the apartment? There was enough for the night, and they could have taken the car to a restaurant if none of the food at home appealed to them.

Rose sighed, letting go of the light pole and stumbling on through the darkness. The snow swirled around her, dimming the streetlights. But she had to get home, so she forged ahead, moving slowly through the storm.

After the third time she had to stop to wait for a contraction to pass, Rose was getting frantic. She was still two blocks from home, and the pains were growing closer together and stronger. It was growing harder to walk, with the snow piling on the ground, and she was freezing. She had to get home—Luke was undoubtedly home from work by now, and he would be worried. He'd be angry with her for endangering herself, but he'd forgive her, and get her a doctor or take her to the hospital.

Maybe, she thought hopefully, he was looking for her right now, driving through the streets looking for her. She had left a note saying where she was going, in case he got home early, so he would know where to look.

Rose groaned as another contraction began, stumbling toward a bench next to a high fence. She would rest for just a few minutes, and then move on.

As she pushed a pile of snow from the bench, she was surprised by a sudden gush of warm fluid. She stared down at the puddle between her feet, the fluid turning quickly to ice. Forgetting about the snow, she sat down, drawing her legs up and clutching her middle.

She was out of time. The baby was coming, and she didn't have the strength to keep going. Setting her frozen bags of food beside her, she clutched her skirts, the amniotic fluid already frozen in the fabric, stiffening it and chilling her further.

*****

At that moment, another figure slowly made her way down the icy street, coming home from a long, grueling day working in a sweatshop, sewing the fine dresses she had once worn herself. Ruth DeWitt Bukater paused, startled, at the sight of the hunched figure curled up on the bench. What was someone doing out in this storm? Ruth had been there long enough to know that there were abandoned buildings where the homeless often stayed at such times, if they couldn't find other shelter. Even a doorway would be better now.

She started to walk past when the woman curled on the bench looked up and gasped, "Help me. Please."

Ruth stopped, looking at the wrapped, hunched figure. She knew that voice, even laced with pain and teeth chattering from the bitter cold.

"Rose?"

Rose was startled. Who was this? Then, looking closer, she realized who it was. "Mother!"

"Rose, what are you doing out here? Where have you been? We thought you were dead!"

"Mother, help me. Please. I'm having a baby. I need to get home. It's only two blocks away—I just need some help...what are you doing here?"

"Never mind that." Ruth helped her up. "I'll explain later. Where do you live?"

Rose pointed, leaning on her mother for support. Ruth helped her along, holding her up when Rose slipped on the ice. Her daughter was panting, clutching her stomach every few minutes.

Ruth did the best she could, but she wasn't terribly strong. She had always been slender, and the job she had been forced to take after Rose's disappearance didn't allow her to buy much food. Together, the two women slowly made their way to the next corner, within sight of Rose's apartment building.

Rose slipped again, clutching her mother for support, despairing of even getting to the building, let alone inside and home. She stumbled a few more steps, her legs threatening to buckle.

"Rose!" Ruth caught her, holding her shaking daughter upright. "Rose, you have to keep going. I can't carry you."

"I know, Mother. I—" Rose stopped, turning in surprise. "Hope! What...how did you know I was here? Did Luke contact you somehow?" She couldn't imagine how. Hope had no telephone—but maybe Luke had driven to her apartment and enlisted her help in finding Rose.

"Don't worry, Rose," Hope told her. "He's waiting for you, along with the doctor. I told him to call the doctor before I went to get you."

"How did you know I needed a doctor?" Rose asked, surprised but relieved.

Hope just smiled secretively. "Women's intuition," she told Rose. When Rose started to ask another question, she hushed her. "I'll tell you later. Right now, we need to get you home." She nodded to Ruth, and each woman put one of Rose's arms on her shoulders, helping her down the street.

*****

They made it back to the apartment, and none too soon. Rose collapsed as they helped her in the door, falling to her knees on the carpeted floor. She shook her head wearily as Hope and Ruth helped her up, assisted by the doctor. When Rose looked as though she would fall again, Luke picked her up, carrying her into their bedroom and laying her on the bed.

"Rose." His voice was tense, anger mixed with relief. "Whatever possessed you to go out in this storm? Don't you know how dangerous it is?"

Rose might have snapped back at him, but she was too tired, and she knew that his anger was only out of concern for her.

"I didn't think it would take so long, and the sky was blue when I left. The storm blew in faster than I expected."

"But why did you go out in the first place? It's so cold, and you're so close to having the baby."

"I went to the market," Rose explained weakly. "We were almost out of food."

"And you couldn't have waited for me, or called a cab? You could have killed yourself and the baby, going out like that."

"I didn't know, all right?" Rose snapped, her temper roused. She started to sit up, but stopped as another contraction knifed through her. "Luke..."

"I'm going to get the doctor." He hurried to the door, then paused. "Rose, I'm not trying to restrict you. I know you would never stand for that. I just don't want anything to happen to you."

"I know." Her eyes softened. "I love you, Luke."

"I love you, too, Rose. I just hope you'll be all right."

*****

The birth was short and swift. Rose lay in the bed, panting and crying out with each contraction that lanced through her, bearing down and working to bring her child into the world.

Ruth and Hope stayed with her, though Luke waited in the front room, pacing restlessly, as the doctor had made it clear that he was unwelcome at a birth. He permitted the two women to stay, though, particularly after they both proved to be stubborn and immovable.

Ruth talked to Rose between contractions, telling her what had happened since she had disappeared and finding out how Rose had come to be newly married and living in New York City.

"Mother," Rose began. "You never did tell me how you wound up here in New York. What were you doing on the street on a night like this?"

"Well, Rose," Ruth started. "You were right about Cal. When he found no sign of you on the Carpathia, he told me that with no marriage to come, he no longer had any obligation to me. I haven't seen him since. When we reached New York, I didn't even have enough money for a train ticket to Philadelphia. I had to stay in a shelter in New York until I found work." She paused. "Everything is gone, Rose. All of our possessions, everything that mattered to me. And I'd lost my daughter, too. I didn't know what to do, so I finally found work as a seamstress in a crowded, dirty factory making the very dresses I once spent so much on. I learned very quickly what life was like for those less fortunate. I only hope that your life has been better."

Rose closed her eyes, waiting for a contraction to end. When she opened them, she said, "I'm sorry, Mother. If I'd known..."

"You would have married Cal?"

Rose shook her head. "No. I wouldn't have married him. But I would have made sure you had a home, and enough food to eat, and clothes to wear. My life hasn't been bad. I moved in with Hope just after the Carpathia docked, and found out that I was pregnant soon after."

Ruth hesitated. "The baby...is it your husband's, or..."

"It's Jack's, Mother. I met Luke last June, in Central Park. We were married last month."

Ruth looked at Rose for a moment, her eyes disapproving. Then she sighed.

"Didn't I warn you about that boy, Rose? He caused you nothing but heartache. I suppose he left as soon as he knew about the baby, or as soon as he learned that you had no money."

Rose looked at her mother, tears shining in her eyes. "It wasn't that way at all, Mother. Jack didn't leave me—not in the usual sense of the word. He died in the sinking—but not before he made me promise to go on." She didn't tell Ruth about Jack's visits since. Rose knew she wouldn't understand.

"Rose..." Ruth hesitated again. "I'm sorry. I know you felt strongly about him."

"I loved him, Mother. At least I had a chance to tell him, before he died. We would have been together, had he lived."

"Rose...I don't know what to say..."

"Don't say anything, Mother. It's over and done. He's gone...and I'm alive. And so is our baby."

She quieted as the doctor bent over her, checking the baby's progress once again. "Not much longer," he assured her. "It's almost here."

Rose looked at the clock by her bedside. Three hours had passed since she had come home. It seemed an eternity to her, but Hope had already told her how quickly the birth was progressing. Hope's son had taken much longer to be born.

A short time later, she was ready to give birth. Squeezing her eyes shut, crying out in pain, she bore down, determined to bring her baby into the world. She hardly noticed that both Ruth and Hope were holding her hands, not objecting when she squeezed their hands against her own pain.

The delivery was quick. Fifteen minutes after she had begun to push in earnest, one last push succeeded in expelling the child from her body. She pushed herself up, wanting to see her newborn.

There was silence for a moment before the baby, shocked at being suddenly brought into the cold, bright room, began to wail, flailing its little arms and legs.

Rose gave a sob of relief, her mind at ease at last. Her long walk in the storm hadn't hurt the baby at all. She held out her arms, holding the baby close when the doctor handed it to her.

She cradled the naked, squalling infant, noting that Jack had been right. The baby was a girl. She was tiny but perfect, her tiny mouth open as she announced her presence, her thin red-blonde hair plastered to her head. She looked like both of them. Josephine Dawson Calvert was the most beautiful child Rose had ever seen.

After the doctor had taken care of Rose and cleaned up and examined the baby, he left to announce the birth to Luke. Rose and Luke had already agreed that, for Josephine's sake, they would let people think that Rose was a widow, never saying a word about the baby's illegitimate status. What did it matter, anyway? Josephine had not chosen the circumstances of her conception or of her birth, and Rose had no regrets.

*****

After the doctor left, Ruth retired for the night, overwhelmed by what she had just seen. Luke had insisted that she not go back out in the storm, and had directed her to the extra bedroom in the apartment. Now, he sat beside Rose, holding her newborn daughter, already loving her as though she were his own.

Hope still sat on the other side of the bed, watching the three family members. At last, she stood, knowing that her work was done.

"Good-bye, Rose," she told her, coming to stand beside her.

"Oh, Hope, you don't have to leave. Wait until morning, at least. I don't think Mother will object to sharing the extra room with you."

Hope shook her head, her eyes full of something that Rose did not understand. "No. I have to go now. It's time for me to go home."

Luke stood as well. "If you must leave, let me call you a cab. It's too far, too cold, and too dark to be walking the streets."

Hope smiled, but shook her head. "Not that home. I won't be going back there."

Rose looked at her, confused. "Hope, you're not making any sense. Where will you be going? Did you move somewhere else?"

"In a manner of speaking. Rose...it's not a place you can visit. Not now, anyway."

Rose stared at her, still confused. Then, she noticed the changes that had taken place in Hope.

Hope's winter attire had given way to the clothing fashionable the previous spring. It was slightly tattered, and wet, though it did not drip on the floor. And an unearthly glow had come over her.

"Hope, what..."

"When the Titanic sank, you surfaced near to a woman who screamed for help, begging the boats to come back. When at last a boat did come back, she was floating in the water, frozen and lifeless. You were lucky enough to survive—but she was not."

Rose's eyes widened, the implications sinking in. "My God...that...that was you," she whispered. "But you were there when the Carpathia docked, and all this time..."

"Jack Dawson knew that you would be on your own now, and that you would need some help. He couldn't be there—it would be too hard, and would change the way things were supposed to happen—but I could. You didn't know me, or anything about me. At his request, I left my husband and son for a time to help you. It gave me more time to live, more time to accept that I was no longer living. But I could only stay until you were ready to make it without our help. I've spoken to Jack frequently over the past few months, learning what I needed to do to push you toward your destiny, and telling him when the time was right that he could visit you in your dreams, when you were able to see him without being broken by the grief."

"He was there at the wedding," Rose told her, her fingers reaching to clutch the locket at her throat.

"Was he?" Hope smiled. "I didn't see him, but I was sure he would be watching you on that day. He's been watching over you since he died. He couldn't stop until he was sure you would be all right."

Rose nodded, understanding so many things now...how Hope had always been there when she needed her, the way she had encouraged Rose and Luke to come together...and even the way she had suddenly appeared this night, helping Rose through the storm with no difficulty. For Hope had known when she was needed, had always kept an eye on Rose—and had helped her in fulfilling her promise to Jack.

"Hope..." Rose embraced her friend, ignoring the cold dampness of her clothes. "I...thank you...for everything. I wouldn't have made it without you..."

"Yes, you would have," Hope whispered, hugging Rose back. "I was only here to ease your way. And now, I'm going back. I thank you...for giving me another chance to live, to do some good in this world before I left it forever. And, in time, we'll meet again. But you have your own life to live now, your own family...and I have mine. Good-bye, Rose. Good-bye, Luke. Good luck to you both." Then, unable to resist having the last word, she added, "Good-bye, Josephine Hope. Someday, your mother will tell you about your father, and about the lady who helped her after he died."

She touched the infant's cheek, then stepped away. And, as Rose and Luke looked on, she slowly faded away, her eyes looking beyond them to something they could not see.

When she was gone, Rose looked up at Luke, tears shining in her eyes. But in spite of her sorrow, she smiled, drawing him down to sit beside her.

"Hope...the name was fitting. She stayed...to give me hope...and to bring me to you."

"Or to bring me to you," Luke murmured, embracing Rose and the now-sleeping baby. "I saw her on the pier before I ever saw you—and tried to interview her. Of course, she wouldn't grant me an interview, but she stayed nearby, until you came up and shouted to me, mistaking me for Jack. That was when she moved in, waiting for you to run into her. It was all planned out—and I'm thankful for that, because without her, we would never have come together. Rose...I know that you'll never forget Jack, but..."

"No, I'll never forget him," Rose whispered, putting a hand to his face, "but I'm not going to spend my life pining away for him. He gave me the greatest gift a person can have—the gift of myself—and then led me to you. Thanks to him, I'm a whole person now, free to love and to be loved...and I love you, Luke Calvert. Jack will always be in my heart, but inside, hidden away with my memories." She smiled. "A woman's heart is a deep ocean of secrets, Luke, capable of infinite, unending love. I've had two great loves in my life...and I've been truly blessed."


	14. Epilogue

Epilogue

June, 1915

Cedar Rapids, Iowa

Rose walked through the yard, laughing as Josephine raced ahead of her, chasing a butterfly. Her daughter was a bright, happy child, as full of life as her parents.

Josephine lost sight of the butterfly and stopped, plopping down in the shade of a tree. She giggled as Rose sat down beside her, tickling her and singing _Come Josephine in my Flying Machine_. The little girl loved the song, which had been her song as long as she could remember. She often talked about really flying someday, and Rose was sure that her daughter would one day fulfill that dream—as Rose had herself learned to fly.

Two years earlier, in June of 1913, Luke had been offered the opportunity to buy a small newspaper in Cedar Rapids, Iowa. He had decided to take a chance on it, and the Calverts had moved to Cedar Rapids that summer. The newspaper had been a success, with Luke's experience with the New York Times and Rose's new-found talent for reporting on everyday happenings. They had worked together to make the newspaper a success, and, in 1914, had hired Ruth to work for the paper as well from her home in New York, sending them the latest news of society and fashion. Ruth had found this far more to her liking than working in a sweatshop, though she was never quite so snobbish again.

In addition to caring for Josephine and working for the Calvert newspaper, Rose also helped to establish a small town theater, at last becoming an actress as she had dreamed. And in April of 1915, she had fulfilled another dream—that of learning to fly.

The newspaper had done well enough that there was some extra money, and during the previous year, Rose had met and interviewed a man who built and flew airplanes. He had never been one to teach anyone else to fly, but he thought well of the Calverts, and had accepted Luke's offer to pay for flying lessons for Rose, something she had told him she one day wanted to do.

And now she could fly. She was still taking lessons, and was still learning, but a week earlier she had taken an airplane out alone for the first time, thrilling in the experience, and was already setting aside money to buy an airplane of her own—or at least the parts to build one, since she had also learned a great deal about putting them together.

Sighing contentedly, Rose leaned back against the tree trunk, Josephine's head cradled in her lap as the child blinked sleepily. She had truly been blessed. She had a happy marriage, a child that she loved, and a career that she enjoyed. She was learning to fly, and had become an actress—all dreams that she had thought impossible just a little over three years before.

Rose stroked her daughter's head, closing her eyes and listening to the sounds of summer. Yes, she had been fortunate, and another blessing had made itself known to her. She moved her hands to her middle, smiling to herself. By December, there would be another baby. She had confirmed it that morning, and would tell Luke in the evening, perhaps over dinner, or later, when they were alone in their room and Josephine was asleep.

Opening her eyes, Rose looked up through the canopy of branches to the cloudless blue sky. The sinking of the Titanic had cast her adrift in an unknown world, but those who cared for her had been her anchor, guiding her through her new world even after they themselves had left it. Hope had been there all through those first difficult months, and through Josephine's birth, but it had been Jack who had given Rose what she needed to become a new person and start a new life.

She smiled as a gentle breeze rustled the leaves on the tree, the sunlight moving over herself and Josephine. "Thank you, Jack," she whispered, knowing that he was watching. She looked up at the sky, her smile growing wider.

Jack had freed her from the hell that her life had been, giving her hope, setting free her spirit and her ability to love. The Titanic had taken him, and, in a way, it had taken her, too. For on that night, Rose DeWitt Bukater had died, and Rose Dawson had been born in her place, full of life and love. That night had changed her life forever.

She had truly been reborn, for the better.

The End.


End file.
